


Leaving Nashville

by swampistan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based on a song, Country Music, F/M, M/M, Music, Scattered smut, Struggling Musician!Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampistan/pseuds/swampistan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on the song "Leaving Nashville" by Charles Kelley.  Bucky is a struggling musician who decides to move from his home in Brooklyn to Nashville, TN, hoping to make it in the country music industry there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Notes

Bucky sits on the floor with his back against the couch, idly strumming a tune on his guitar. He blows a strand of hair from his face with little effort, letting it fall back into place a moment later. It had been at least a week of the same few notes, trying to build a song around them. The notes had come to him on a bus ride through Kentucky, on his way to Nashville. They were three simple notes, repeated in a soft harmony that had resonated with him. It had reminded him of home, Brooklyn, where he had grown up.  
His family wasn’t as musically gifted as he was (his father had known only a few songs on the piano) so he hadn’t been given many music lessons. He had found his gift with the guitar only a couple years ago, when he had picked up one his friend had had sitting in his living room. Once he had begun playing, just a little ditty he knew from childhood, everyone stopped talking and listened.  
“I didn’t know you could play,” his friend, Steve, had said.  
“I didn’t either,” he had replied, just as surprised as everyone else.  
For the next two years, his friends had begged him to take a chance in Nashville. He’d always joked that one day he would, practicing late at night to the annoyance of his parents and sister. He had never really thought he could make it big, but one day he decided he could at least try. I mean, what’s the harm in that, he had thought to himself.  
Now, here he is, in a run-down apartment with roaches and several stains that looked suspiciously like bloodstains. His bed might as well be a pallet on the floor, the kitchen is as small as his closet back home, and the couch he is now leaning against likely has lice. He had paid three-month’s rent in advance, hoping to get enough money to get another place nicer. But the tips from his open-mics at bars weren’t cutting it. He had barely enough money to feed himself, let alone buy a new mattress. The only clothes he had were the ones he was wearing, and two other sets of clothes he had in a duffel bag on the floor in his bedroom.  
The people at the bars were always attentive, as drunk as they were, and very supportive. They usually gave him the last of their beer money, for which he was grateful, but it was not enough. After the shows, he would sit out on the street corner and play, hoping for a little more cash before he went home. He’d walk, moving like a shadow under the streetlamps with his guitar. Before entering his building, he would always check on the alley cats, making sure they had food and water for the night.  
He gets up from his seat on the floor and makes his way to the kitchen. Another Ramen night. As he waits on the noodles to cook, he lets his mind wander. Steve enters his mind almost immediately, his golden hair and blue eyes are the only things Bucky really remembers. Steve had been his friend since childhood; they were inseparable. Over the past few years they had grown really close; even tried dating for a little while. But they just didn’t fit together like they thought they would. Steve moved on to women and Bucky… well, he just moved to Nashville. It had broken his heart, driving away with Steve in his rearview, waving his childhood friend a fond farewell.  
A stray tear falls down Bucky’s cheek and drops to the floor. As he gazes at the glistening moisture on the linoleum, the chorus of a song comes to his mind:  
Oh, I wish you were here  
Sleeping on my shoulder  
Breathing my air  
Waking up at 2:00 AM  
Stumble out of a beat-up van  
Crawl into a motel bed  
Oh, I wish you were here  
He had begged Steve to come with him to go on another one of their many adventures together. But Steve had met a girl, Peggy, and wasn’t willing to leave her behind.  
“We’ve got a good thing going, Buck. I think I might even ask her to marry me sometime soon,” he had said, with that glisten in his eyes that had been for Bucky at one time, long ago. Bucky hadn’t said anything, just nodded and drove away.  
The Ramen is starting to burn, so Bucky quickly takes it off the burner, waving away the smoke that had begun billowing from the pot. The bubbling makes a particular sound pattern, giving him an idea. He runs to the coffee table where he had his music sheets, and quickly jots down a couple notes. He stares at them for a moment before his hand starts slowly etching notes onto the paper. A minute or so later, Ramen forgotten, Bucky’s hand is flying across the page, scratching the notes down like his life depended on it. The music flowed through him; he could hear it as clearly as someone playing it next to him. He had broken out into a slight sweat from the excitement of his epiphany. A few more minutes pass before he flops backward into the couch, ignorant of the scratchiness of the material. He had finished it. His own song. Written by him. Played by him. His. Bucky grins to himself. If only Steve could hear it. He’d be so proud.  
Next step was to write the words.


	2. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally finds words for his song. He also gets a surprise visit from Natasha.

Bucky is awakened by the chorus of mews coming from outside his bedroom window. He rubs his eyes and stretches, letting his joints pop and groan from sleeping on the hard mattress. Despite the uncomfortable pallet, Bucky had slept through the night, the notes of his new song playing over and over in his head. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. As he sips it, he stares at the note sheets on his coffee table. His guitar leans on the couch just like he had left it the night before. He strolls over to the papers, sifting through them as he replays the tune again in his head. Words slowly begin to come to him, so he picks up his pencil and jots down a few of them. He starts with the chorus, strumming along with his guitar to make sure the words fit right. He moves on to the verses, pouring his heart into them, trying to paint a picture of who he is with the words.  
After a few hours, he finally looks at the silver watch on his left wrist. 1200 hours. He sighs and puts down his guitar, humming the song as he gets up to make himself a sandwich. His back hurts from being stooped over the coffee table for so long, so he pops a couple Tylenol and downs them with the rest of his cold coffee. Bucky is genuinely pleased with himself, smiling as he makes his sandwich.  
A frown crosses his features when there’s a knock at the door. He strides over to it, rolling his eyes as he opens the door for Natasha. She stands there with a small smirk on her lips, one eyebrow cocked.  
“Whatcha been up to, Barnes?” She says, trailing her eyes over his face before inviting herself in. She gives him a quick kiss on the lips before flopping herself down on the couch.  
“Shoes off the couch,” Bucky orders, tossing Nat’s feet on the floor so he can sit next to her. He could feel her green eyes boring into his head, the red hair matching her fiery personality.   
Bucky had met Natasha in one of the bars he played at. She was a fellow musician, but had a thing for the violin rather than the guitar. Her performances were constructed of various classical pieces that she herself had written, while ballet dancing in a black cat suit and a pair of black and red flats. She had a very lithe figure; able to play the instrument while balancing on her toes of a single foot. Most of her pieces were of Russian origin, paying homage to her parents and ancestry. Bucky was still trying to figure her out, as she was a very complicated person. She was very quiet with her thoughts, calculating every move she and people around her made. She and Bucky had connected through they’re love of music, and that was all. But over the few months that he had been here, they had developed a “friends with benefits” kind of relationship.   
“What?” Bucky asks, finally turning to meet her emerald eyes.  
“Nothin’. Just came by to see ya. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”  
Bucky smirks, “Oh, were you getting worried, Nat?” He gives her a playful shove on the knee, which she returns with a slap on the shoulder.  
“Whatever makes you feel better, Barnes.” Her eyes drop from his face to the papers on the table. She’s quicker than he is, grabbing them before he can and jumping up from the couch. She walks briskly around the couch, Bucky following, as she reads his work.  
“Not bad,” she compliments, making Bucky’s eyebrows raise. Nat rarely gave compliments (except when they were fucking; she was a talker), but when she did, they meant something.  
“Needs some refining, but the notes look good,” she continues, speeding up as Bucky tries to catch up with her. She finally sits back down on the couch, handing the papers to Bucky who joins her. He stacks them neatly and sets them on the table.  
“You thirsty? Want something to drink?” He moves to get up, but she pulls him back down to give him a long wet kiss.  
“Not anything from your kitchen, I can tell you that,” she says with a wink, straddling his lap and pulling on his shirt collar.  
“Is that all you came here for, to fu-UCK?” He gasps out as she reaches for his groin, messaging it with her long, strong fingers. She plays with his hair with her other hand, twirling the long strands around her digits.  
“Yes, but I was also a little concerned. Was afraid you weren’t getting the care you deserve.”  
She captures his lips with hers, playing with them before slipping her tongue into his mouth. He lets his tongue mingle with hers while he lets his hands wander over her hips. She stops him before he can undo her belt, and breaks the kiss, moving down onto her knees in front of him. He quickly unbuckles his own pants, letting his half-hardened length spill out. She takes him in her hands, pumping him until he’s hard. His head falls back to the couch with a moan as she takes him into her mouth. She circles her tongue around his tip each time she moves off of him, sucking on the sensitive skin. His moans echo through the empty house as she continues to work him, taking him in as far as she can. She begins to hum around him, the vibrations making his cock twitch. He barely registers the notes as his own before he comes in her mouth. She sucks him off completely, swallowing every drop of his cum before moving up to kiss him fully on the mouth.  
While he recovers, she strips down to nothing, baring her curves to him. She clears the coffee table before sitting down, her legs splayed so he could see her, wet and ready for him. She slips a finger inside herself, watching his face as she does so. His eyes cloud with hunger as he takes her in, watching her pump in and out, adding a second finger moments later. He falls to his knees in front of her, replacing her fingers with his tongue, relishing in her scent and taste. She has a hand tightly wound in his hair, pulling him closer as he fucks her with his tongue. He inserts two fingers, curling them and touching her spot while flicking her clit with his thumb. She comes with a scream of ecstasy, breathing heavy as Bucky laps up her juices.  
By this time, Bucky’s cock has become swollen again, leaking precum on his stomach. Nat can see it too, smirking as she gets up and walks around to place her hands on to back of the couch. Bucky follows her, slipping a condom on before thrusting hard into her, making her gasp at the heat and friction. He moves with little ceremony, ramming into her with enough force to lift the couch. It’s not long before they both come, bellowing in unison from the pulsing of their connection. Bucky pulls out, sinking to the floor next to Natasha, completely sated. She sits down next to him, patting his knee as she catches her breath.  
“Feeling well cared for, Barnes?”  
Bucky just chuckles, taking a deep breath before getting up, lending Nat a hand to help her up. They both dress before Bucky escorts her to the door.  
“You have a good thing going with that song. Just a few more tweaks and it’ll be ready for your drinking friends to hear.” She gives him another kiss before leaving, her legs slightly wobbly from the pounding. Bucky smiles and shakes his head, closing the door. He gathers the music papers once again, sitting down on the couch to focus on his work.   
He spends the rest of the day critiquing himself, changing notes and words here and there to improve the song’s flow. His mind drifts back to Steve, briefly, wondering how he’s doing. Why didn’t we work, Steve? Because we were like fire and gasoline.


	3. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky plays his work at the local bar, only to meet with two unexpected persons who have, and will, change his life forever.

Later that night, Bucky finds himself strolling along the sidewalk, on his way to the bar to play. He stoops to stroke the head of one of the alley cats, the purr echoing the fluttering of his heart. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, he had played in front of this crowd before, but never with his own material. He takes a deep breath and keeps walking, finally reaching the back entrance to the bar a few minutes later. He opens the door and the smell of spilt beer and over-dosing of cologne hits his nostrils. He pushes through the wall of people lined up for the bathroom and makes his way to his “dressing room”, a renovated broom closet sparsely decorated with a chair and a mirror.  
He sits down to tune his guitar, plucking at the strings and listening to their hum. He scans his eyes over his piece, making sure he can get through the song smoothly. He takes a few deep breaths, holding them for a second before letting them go. After taking a swig of whiskey to loosen up his tongue, Bucky gets up and heads toward the stage.  
Nat is playing right now, whipping her mane of red hair back and forth as she saws away at her newest violin piece. Bucky’s eyes watch her with affection, smiling despite the butterflies in his stomach. When he had first started out, Nat had always been able to calm down his nervousness with her performances. The way she moved and acted, like she couldn’t see the audience, fueled him to continue with his own performances.  
She moves with the stealth and smoothness of a tiger, like she was a spy in another life. Bucky notes the gradual slowing of the music, slightly swaying as she draws out the last few notes from her instrument. Applause fills the bar while she takes several bows before collecting her stuff along with her tip jar. She steps off the stage in Bucky’s direction, giving him a peck on the cheek as she passes.  
“Good luck,” she whispers, pursing her lips into a small smile and giving Bucky a small shove. Bucky bites his lip and breaks into a smile as he climbs the steps of the stage. A welcoming applause accompanies him, giving him a boost of confidence as he sets up.  
“How is everyone tonight?” he asks, his soft baritone dominating the loudspeakers. Cheers erupt from the crowd, with a few whistles here and there from the drunk college girls. Bucky’s smile grows wider.  
“Well, I got somethin’ new for y’all tonight. It’s a song I wrote myself, about my hometown, Brooklyn, New York. Please bear with me, though. This is the first time it’s been played in full, so there may need to be a few tweaks here a there.” He takes one more deep breath, releases it, and begins to play.  
The song begins softly, a repetition of the three notes that had resounded so deeply within him, before switching to a quicker pace. After a couple more chords, he opens his mouth and begins to sing:

You call to me like the winter wind,  
Reminding me of who I am.  
Will your hold on me ever end?  
I didn’t think I could ever leave you,  
The pull is almost too much to stand.

I need you like a plant needs the sun,  
Flowering in your glory,  
With you smiling upon me  
Like a father does to a son.

He takes a breath to scan the crowd, catching sight of someone, the last person he expected to see there. His pulse quickens and he lowers his gaze, concentrating on his fingering.

You call to me like the winter wind,  
Reminding me of who I am.  
Will your hold on me ever end?  
I don’t think I could ever let you go,  
The pull is almost too much to stand.

My heart yearns for you every day,  
But I can’t go back to you.  
You begged me to stay when I went that day,  
Your shadow following me ever since.

You call me like the winter wind,  
But I don’t heed your call.  
I will always remember you,  
Like the light breeze of fall,  
Feeling your caress on my cheek.

I will always remember you,  
My sweet, sweet, Brooklyn.

The bar is silent for a couple moments, making Bucky look up from his guitar. Everyone’s mouth is agape. Slowly, people begin to clap. Before long, everyone is clapping and cheering, asking if they can buy him a drink. His tip jar is filling up fast, fives and tens taking up a majority of the space. Bucky finds himself grinning from ear to ear. He had never expected this kind of a reaction. Granted, most of the people were drunk, but this was the most animated he had ever seen them, even after Nat’s performances.  
Bucky’s gaze travels around the room, half-seeing, half-searching for that face he had sorely missed. After one once-over, Bucky begins to doubt that he had even seen the face in the crowd. He feels a tap on the shoulder, and turns. Eyes the color of lapis lazuli smile back at him. Full lips framing a line of perfect teeth are surrounded by short, golden stubble as they say his name. Bucky’s jaw drops, pulling Steve in for a long-overdue hug. He feels tears prick the corners of his eyes, but he blinks them quickly away before facing Steve again.  
“H-how have you been, Steve?” Bucky stammers, trying to keep a smile on his face despite the pang he feels in his chest. His eyes dart down to Steve’s left hand, a wave of relief easing his heart as he notes the absence of a ring.  
“Doing well, pal. How about you?”  
“Oh, you know…” Bucky rubs the back of his neck while he tries to come up with a good answer. He doesn’t want to lie to Steve, but he is also too embarrassed to tell him how he’s really doing. “I’ve just been here and at my place mostly. Rent’s not too bad, and this pays the bills, so… I guess I’m doing alright.” He gives Steve a weak smile, causing worry lines appear on Steve’s face. They quickly disappear as Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder, turning him toward the bar.  
“Well, let me by you a drink, and we can catch up!” Steve leads Bucky over to the bar, motioning for the bartender to bring them a couple beers. The pretty brunette quickly deposits the longnecks on the bar, before whisking away to attend to another customer. Steve’s eyes follow her as she leaves, flicking back to Bucky once she’s out of sight.  
“So, how’s Peggy doing?” Bucky picks at the label on his beer, waiting for Steve to answer. Steve purses his lips before answering.  
“She’s gotten a job. With the military. In Upstate. So I haven’t seen her in a few weeks…” He trails off, eyes dropping to the bar top. “I haven’t heard much from her either, since a lot of her job involves ‘top secret’ government intelligence that she can’t share with me. And she’s pretty much on radio silence right now, so I thought I’d come visit my old pal!” Steve claps Bucky on the shoulder, a strained smile plastered on his face.  
They talk for a few more minutes, catching up on each ones’ goings-on, eventually falling into stories from their childhood. Their uneasiness slowly melts away as the night goes on. They are both on their third beers, laughing about the pranks they used to play on each other and the faces their mothers used to make when they came home beat up and bruised.  
Their heads are thrown back in laughter when Bucky notices a well-dressed man out of the corner of his eye walking toward them. The man is in a grey suit with a striped blue tie, carrying a lowball glass of whiskey in his hand. He approaches the pair, acknowledging Steve before turning to Bucky and offering his hand.  
“Mister James Barnes, it is an honor to meet you. My name is Alexander Pierce, from Hydra Records. I just saw what you did here tonight. You have potential, kid.”  
Bucky turns to Steve with surprise in his eyes before turning back to Pierce. “Um, thank you, sir. That means a lot.”  
“If I could have a moment of your time, maybe we could discuss getting a small contract written up for you. Like I said, you have potential, and I’d love have you as a client.” Pierce steers Bucky away from Steve to a quiet corner of the pub. Bucky looks over his shoulder to Steve giving him a smile and a thumbs-up. He sits down with Pierce, accepting the glass of whiskey he offered.  
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Pierce raises his glass in toast before drinking the amber liquid. Bucky follows his lead, taking a deep breath after swallowing. Don’t blow this, Barnes.


	4. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky remember old times.

After setting up an appointment with Pierce, Bucky and Steve find themselves walking back to Bucky’s apartment. Bucky had been reluctant, but Steve was persistent.  
They’re helping each other walk, both equally drunk after six beers. Steve is giggling like a little school girl, much to Bucky’s enjoyment. He finds himself smiling, watching Steve. He has to admit. He missed this. Walking home from the bars late at night, when they had just turned of age, battered and bruised from another bar fight. They helped each other stumble down the road. Sometimes, when they got home, things would get a little more fun. Not that Bucky was hoping for anything tonight.  
They reach the apartment and stumble through the door. Bucky deposits Steve onto the couch and goes back to lock it. He joins Steve on the couch, catching his breath after the struggle up the stairs. How many stairs were there? Felt like they would never end.  
Once the room stops spinning, Bucky gets up to grab Steve and himself a class of water.  
“Buck?”   
“Yeah, Steve?”  
“Remember what we’d do on nights like these?” How could he forget? They were some of the best nights of his life.  
“Yeah, kinda,” Bucky says with a small chuckle.  
Bucky turns to the silence that follows, finding Steve standing behind him, those blue eyes boring into his. Steve’s hand moves to cup Bucky’s face, and Bucky almost drops the glasses he’s holding.  
Could this really be happening?  
Steve’s soft lips move to cover Bucky’s, hovering over them with the uncertainty that comes with a long-awaited kiss. Bucky waits, afraid to move, not wanting to wake up from what has to be a dream. When they finally touch, it’s like the floodgates had been opened. The glasses fall to the floor, shattering, ignored. Clothing follows, draping over the faucet and counter.  
Bucky leads Steve into his bedroom and gets on his hands and knees on the mattress. He can feel it shift as Steve kneels down behind him.  
“Your ass is as beautiful as I remember,” Steve says, giving Bucky’s cheeks a smack. Bucky grunts, feeling his length getting harder with the anticipation. He can feel the body heat radiating off of Steve, so hot it could burn the skin on his ass. Steve’s fingers trail down his spine to his asshole, circling the tender skin with his fingertip. Bucky shivers at the touch, barely able to grab the lube from his bedside drawer. Steve slathers it on his fingertips before inserting one, then two fingers into Bucky.  
He moves them in and out, curling his fingers, making Bucky groan with pleasure. He stretches him deliciously with his long sausage fingers; Bucky’s back arches as they tickle his prostate.  
“You got a vibrator?” Steve asks, his voice low and raspy. Bucky grunts in response, reaching to retrieve it and the remote, handing them both to Steve. Bucky braced himself for the cool plastic, a feeling he knew all too well. But instead, he’s roughly flipped on his back and the remote shoved in his face.  
“I want this while I fuck you,” Steve whispers, giving Bucky a long, deep kiss.  
Bucky complies, helping Steve put the vibrator up his asshole, right next to his sweet spot. Steve sighs, resuming his position behind Bucky.  
“I need you so bad, baby. I need you to do this for me. When I enter you, you turn this on.” Steve’s voice is getting ragged now from the anticipation and need. All Bucky can do is whimper an affirmative.   
Steve pumps himself a couple times, then slides into Bucky.  
Holy fuck.   
It feels so good, he almost forgets to turn on the vibrator. When he does, Steve’s thighs tighten around his asscheeks before sliding out and driving in again.  
“Higher,” Steve gasps, slamming into Bucky.  
Bucky flips the switch to the next highest setting, getting a loud moan from Steve.  
“Higher!” Bucky’s finger slips on the remote from the sweat, jacking it up to the highest setting.  
Steve growls with pleasure; Bucky can feel the vibrations through Steve every time he slams into him.  
Bucky can feel himself tightening around Steve; his cock starting to hurt from the pressure.  
“I’m coming, Steve.” He can’t hold out any longer. With a guttural yell he spills himself onto the sheets, his asshole clenching around Steve’s cock. Steve comes a moment later, his seed shooting into Bucky like fire. He rides the orgasm, making sure they both get the most out of it.  
They’re both covered in sweat when Steve collapses onto Bucky, gasping for air. The vibrator is still going, emitting a low hum. Steve slowly slides out of Bucky, flopping down next to him on the bed.  
After removing the vibrator, changing the sheets, and a quick shower to clean off, Bucky climbs into bed with Steve, wrapping his arm around his waist.  
Before long, Steve is asleep in Bucky’s arms. Bucky gives him a soft kiss on the back before drifting off to sleep himself.  
Just like the good old days.


End file.
